


Staccato

by amathela



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-11
Updated: 2008-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Amy's fingers tap out a harsh rhythm on the wood.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staccato

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to episode _4:8 - Process Stories._

Donna's halfway through her fourth glass of champagne when Amy sidles up next to her at the makeshift bar, and she glances up slowly, noticing the way Amy's fingers tap out a harsh rhythm on the wood.

"Nice party," Amy says, and her voice is almost bored, if you don't know her. Donna just nods, her hand curling around the stem of her glass to keep from placing it over Amy's, stopping the beat that seems to echo in her spine.

"We have our moments," but she's smiling a little more than is strictly necessary; this is a good night, and maybe the alcohol has gone to her head a little, because when Amy stops suddenly, turns, her hand brushing against Donna's thigh, she could swear she almost shivers.

Amy doesn't say anything, just smiles knowingly, and when her hand reaches out again, her fingers almost curling around Donna's, Donna is sure it's not an accident.

And then it's definitely gone to her head, because now it's her who's reaching out, her skin sliding over Amy's, pinkies twisting together. Neither of them lets go as someone Donna doesn't recognise approaches them, talks inanely about elections and polls and next term's strategies; when he's gone, their hands are clasped together, and Donna doesn't hesitate as Amy pulls her away, leading her out through the crowd towards the relative quiet of the bullpen.

It doesn't escape her that they're in Josh's office as the door closes behind them; she glances up, sees Amy's smile, and she knows it isn't a coincidence, either. A few minutes later, she's pressed up against Josh's desk, Amy's already indecent dress sliding up over bare skin, and she twists a lock of dark hair around her fingers, almost forgetting to breathe as Amy kisses her. They both taste like alcohol, tangy and sharp, and her breath catches in her throat as Amy's fingers slide up, over her waist, then under the fabric of her bra, and she doesn't even have time to think, _I have to work here tomorrow._

"I can see why Josh hired you," Amy says, after; her fingers are tracing circles on Donna's thigh, and it doesn't sound like a barb.

"If I did that for Josh, he'd have to give me a raise."

Amy smiles; in agreement, maybe, or willing disbelief. "Maybe I should poach you."

 _Maybe you should keep doing that,_ Donna thinks, but doesn't say; instead, she smiles back, and she's almost surprised when Amy leans over, brushing a nearly chaste kiss across her lips.

"Or maybe I should just visit more often."

That, Donna thinks, is an excellent idea. Outside, she can hear the party still going on, but it fades away as Amy kisses her again, not at all chastely, and her fingers slide upwards.

"I'm sure we can find some reason for that."


End file.
